


Ric

by Help__Obsessed_Artist



Category: Batman (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Heavy Angst, Other, dick is a dick, im sorry guys, there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Help__Obsessed_Artist/pseuds/Help__Obsessed_Artist
Summary: Dick has been radio-silent after recovering from the shot to his head.Damian goes to find him.





	Ric

**Author's Note:**

> (I HATE "Ric Grayson")  
> There is no happy ending kids.

Damian scowled around his brother's living space. It was much smaller than the penthouse, dusty and messy and despite being decorated with Grayson's things, it didn't _feel_ like him. It smelled rotten (probably as a result from the old Chinese food in the sink) and it felt cold.

This was not his brother's apartment. He didn't want to believe it.

Calling Grayson a brother had always come naturally after their time as partners, but ever since the accident…

Damian huffed, kicking a discarded beer can into the wall. The sight of his apartment was _disgraceful_.

Grayson had gone radio silent after recovering from the amnesia, and no one in the family had seen him in weeks. Nightwing had also gone “missing” resulting in a Gotham-like crime wave in his city when the black and blue vigilante was thought to be dead. Father refused to reach out, thus pushing Damian to sneak out and make his way to Bludhaven.

He needed to see Grayson. He needed reassurance that his older brother was okay.

As if on cue, the doorknob rattled and there was a scraping on the deadbolt lock at the front door. Damian's heart rate spiked and he quickly scampered to the kitchen, settling himself in the shadow atop the fridge.

The apartment door swung inward and two people stumbled in, laughing with hands trailing clumsily over one another's bodies. Damian blinked.

Grayson looked very strange. He had chosen to keep his head shaved after the surgery, exposing the nasty scar on the right side of his head. His clothes were baggy and worn, barely hanging onto his frame while the girl he brought home attempted to work them off.

Damian growled.

Grayson's eyes snapped open and he looked around groggily. Damian could _smell_ the liquor on him even from several feet away as his elder brother tried to see through his drunkenness and Damian scowled further.

“What's ‘he matter, Ric?” The woman slurred. At first, Damian thought it was a hiccup, but she said the name again and Damian's gut flared in anger.

That was _not_ his brother's name.

“Someone’s here.. I think…” Grayson laughed to himself, sending him and the girl into a fit of giggles when he tried to shush them.

Damian had seen enough.

He leapt to land silently on the counter, his cape flapping and landing to sprawl around him. He glared up at the two of them from his crouch, unimpressed when the two of them jumped.

“Is that… Hey its that guy… The little guy! From uh… Gottem!”

“ _Gotham._ ” Grayson corrected the woman. “Robin.”

“Grayson.” Damian seethed quietly. “We need to talk.”

“Wait, y’know a super’ero?” The woman gasped, walking closer. Clearly, this female was absolutely hammered, because she didn't seem to sense the rising danger emanating from the boy with every move she made. She giggled at him, ducking down slightly to see his face under his hood. “Y’re adorable!”

The woman made the mistake of reaching out.

Damian moved on instinct, actions driven by anger. He grabbed her offending hand by her wrist, pulling her forward and pressing a batarang to her throat. The girl went stiff under his hand, whimpering in shock as he held her in place.

Grayson seemed shocked as well, but he stepped forward, grabbing the hand holding the batarang and yanking it away from her skin.

“That's uncalled for!”

Damian _almost_ flinched. If it weren't for the growing anger bubbling in his stomach, he thought he might have. Grayson never raised his voice; only a couple of times in life or death scenarios, but each time was for concern of Damian's safety. He had never yelled _at_ Damian.

His hand was tight on Damian's wrist as well; any tighter, and the boy would have a bruise.

Damian growled again.

Before Grayson could open his mouth to speak, Damian used his free hand to jab at the woman's face, the side of his hand hitting her hard in the middle of the eyes. She slumped back, hitting the floor with a thud.

“What the hell, Damian!?”

Grayson released his arm, bending to check the woman's pulse. Damian tutted. He didn't feel bad and he wasn't going to apologize.

 _He_ wasn't the one who needed to apologize.

“She is simply unconscious.”

Grayson whirled on him, standing.

“What are you even _doing_ here? I have a cell phone you know.”

Damian's eyes widened slightly.

He would've thought Grayson would be happy to see him. After all, the two hadn't interacted in at least a month. But Grayson didn't look happy. In fact, he looked incredibly annoyed. Damian swallowed, nose scrunching to match his brother's glare.

“Nightwing is gone, and crime is up. You are being irresponsible, Grayson.”

“ _Nightwing is dead_.”

Damian blinked.

Grayson huffed, turning on his heel to walk to the fridge. Damian dropped down from the counter, following him.

“Clearly not. You survived.” Damian said bluntly, squinting at the sudden brightness from the fridge light. Grayson sighed, shoving aside several old food items.

“ _Ric Grayson_ survived the gunshot. Not Nightwing.”

Damian's stomach burned in anger again and he clenched his fists.

“That is not your name, Richard.”

“It is now.”

Grayson pulled a beer out of the fridge, twisting off the cap and immediately taking a gulp.

Damian's nose crinkled. He hated alcohol. And Grayson knew that. Yet here he was, drinking in front of his little brother.

“You have a responsibility to the citizens of Bludhaven to protect them.”

Grayson sighed, running a hand over his head as if to run it through hair that wasn't there.

“Yeah? And what have they ever done for me? Protecting people is what almost killed me. It killed Bruce, Jason, Wally. This damn _hobby_ is the reason our family is so fucked up. We're better off letting the police handle it.”

Grayson stepped around him, plopping on the worn leather sofa and ignoring the crumpling of plastic wrappers under him. Damian followed, standing tall in front of his brother and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“You are fully aware why we cannot trust the police, Grayson.”

“Maybe in Gotham,” Grayson amended, taking another swig of the drink, “But here, the police are fine. They don't need me.”

Damian clenched his teeth.

He yanked out his BatPhone (a tablet-like thing linked to the BatComputer) and typed in a quick command.

He turned the screen to Grayson wordlessly, as a video began to play.

“This is Vicki Vale with the latest in crime news. The city of Bludhaven mourns the death of their blue knight as the citizens take the brunt of a new crime wave. Not one month ago, Bludhaven's vigilante known as Nightwing took a fatal shot to the head and was assumed dead on the scene. It was unconfirmed, however, Gotham's Batman was said to have collected the vigilante before the BPD. Now, without their blue acrobat, Bludhaven is suffering from the lack of a savior; crimes in the city climbing and making it almost second to Gotham.”

 

Damian clicked off the video, crossing his arms back over his chest. Grayson just blinked at him.

“That’s not my problem.”

Damian froze. He would _not_ show that Grayson’s words rattled him. He would _not_ give his brother the satisfaction.

 _He would_ **_not_ ** _scream. He would_ **_not_ ** _cry_.

“You felt differently as Batman.” He said quietly through a clenched jaw and Grayson shrugged.

“Batman is necessary. Joker and the other psychos aren’t gonna stop terrorizing the city cause the big black bat bit the dust. All we’ve got here is petty criminals. I almost died fighting the war Bruce fabricated.”

Damian scowled. He didn’t think it was possible for such words to come out of his brother’s mouth. Out of the mouth of his partner; his _hero_.

“And what of everyone else?” He asked quietly, “What about the women who are mugged every day on the streets where the police aren’t? The criminals that are untouchable due to jurisdiction or by way of a loophole in the law? What of the children who are kidnapped; never to be found?”

Grayson was silent.

“Do they deserve the punishment you inflict?”

Grayson sighed, finishing his beer and rubbing his unshaven jaw. He blinked up at Damian, his blue eyes dull and tired. But lacked the emotion Damian once knew.

The love.

“I’ve made my decision.”

Damian’s fists shook at his sides.

He had heard enough.

He turned on his heel, stalking toward the window and ripping it open. He heard Grayson stand and walk behind him.

“Don’t be mad Dami… Please just… Can we talk…?”

Damian paused after throwing one leg out the window. Grayson’s plea was familiar; the tone Damian knew. It made him hesitate.

But only for a moment.

Looking back at Grayson’s face brought all his anger and disappointment rushing back with a vengeance.

“No Grayson. You have made your choice. And I have made mine.”

Damian threw his other leg out the window, pausing on the sill at his brother’s next question.

“What choice? What are you talking about?”

Damian spared him a hard glance over his shoulder, trying to swallow against the lump in his throat and hoping Grayson couldn’t see the wetness in his eyes.

“I have chosen not to seek you out anymore.”

Grayson stepped back, his words laced with heartbreak; more emotion than Damian had heard that night, “ _Dami_ … What are you-”

“Let me know if you find my real big brother.”

And with that, he jumped.

 

([ **Check out the artwork for this fic!!**](https://cassiestephensart.tumblr.com/post/185047348885/artwork-from-an-angsty-fic-i-wrote-ric-by))


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